


Home For The Holidays

by SilverFlameAlchemist



Series: Happy Families [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Can You Tell It's Set At Christmas, Christmas, Christmas Decorating, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Drunken Shenanigans, EVERYONE'S HUMAN, Everyone's happy, F/M, Mistletoe, Obligatory Carols, gift-giving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9482807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFlameAlchemist/pseuds/SilverFlameAlchemist
Summary: The whole effect was so different from everything Dean was used to, that he wasn't entirely sure how to react when the sight of a completely Christmasified living room met his gaze. All-in-all, Dean actually sort of liked it. In a weird, "not really into Christmas" sort of way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea I just couldn't shake, so I decided to simply run with it. Because, apparently, even someone who's as close to being a Grinch as I am, needs to do a holiday fic. X)

Carols were filtering gently through the set of old speakers perched precariously on the overcrowded mantle, and a fire crackled and popped in the hearth below. The tree, which took up an entire corner of the snug living room, was filling the house with the scent of fresh pine as the ornaments glimmered from the depths of its boughs, and the lights and tinsel that wound around it in chaotic tangles of gold and silver glowed invitingly. Presents peeked from around the base of the tree, each wrapped in bright paper with perfectly formed bows and little candy-cane nametags, all just waiting to be torn to pieces in the carnage of Christmas merriment.

The whole effect was so different from everything Dean was used to, that he wasn't entirely sure how to react when the sight of a completely Christmasified living room met his gaze. He'd been to Cas' house before, on more than one occasion actually, so he knew the layout, but this wasn't what he'd been expecting. Cas had mentioned once or twice that his sister didn't really get into the Christmas spirit, and since Dean himself hadn't celebrated the holiday in longer than he cared to remember, he hadn't been expecting much in the way of decorations.

And it wasn't like this throughout the whole house, either (although Dean _had_ noticed the carefully placed sprig of mistletoe and dodged accordingly), with the exception of icicle lights across the front porch's railing and touches of holly throughout the rest of the house. However, if he were being blunt, he'd say the living room looked like an Elf had thrown up all over it.

But, he defended Ariel's decorating technique, it was tastefully done. So, maybe less an Elf _vomiting_ , and more an Elf _sneezing_ instead. There were no nativity scenes or tiny lighted villages, and the mantle was not inhabited by Santa's or Nutcrackers, but by poinsettia and bits of garland instead. The topper on the tree wasn't any judgmental looking angel, for which Dean was oddly thankful, but was instead a very delicate glass star. And the rest of the ornaments, although all not-quite-matching, didn't clutter up the tree, but instead left plenty of green visible in between their glimmering shapes.

All-in-all, Dean actually sort of liked it. In a weird, _not really into Christmas_ sort of way.

He jumped slightly when Cas appeared beside him and bumped the taller boy's shoulder with his own. "The tinsel doesn't bite, Dean." He observed softly, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Wouldn't be so sure of that!" Ariel said as she breezed past them, pausing only long enough to wink at the both of them before she moved over to the tree and put the present she had been carrying down among the others. "After all," she continued (and no, Dean was _not_ staring at her ass as she bent over, he was admiring the stitching on her back jean's pocket), "Gabriel helped me put it up."

"I rest my case." Dean grinned at Cas, who rolled his blue eyes skyward, and then inched closer across the living room. He justified putting his hand lightly against Ariel's lower back by reminding himself that they'd already been on several dates, and it was generally considered polite to alert people to your presence when you moved over to them unexpectedly.

Ariel straightened back up and smiled at him, a soft smile that elicited a rather soft smile of his own, and then turned back to look at Cas, who was trying not to smirk at the two of them, and failing miserably to hide his amusement over the situation. "Food. Table. _Now._ "

He shuffled out towards the kitchen, knowing better than to argue with his big sister, and left the two of them alone with Marilyn Monroe, who was asking _"Santa, baby"_ to hurry down the chimney and put some highly questionable presents under the tree.

"The place looks great," Dean managed in a soft voice, aware of how good Cas' hearing was, "Gabriel's probably-dangerous tinsel aside, I mean."

"I don't usually decorate like this," she admitted with a shrug, "but since everyone was going to be here this year, I figured, what the hell?" She grinned and looked around the room for a moment before her gaze landed back on him. "And yeah, I think it turned out pretty well."

Dean snorted softly. " _Pretty well_? Baby, give yourself a little more credit than that." And that was totally the fire making the back of his neck feel uncomfortably warm, not the unintentional pet name or the look Ariel was giving him because of it.

"Oh, so it's _'baby'_ now, is it?" Gabriel's voice shattered what would have likely turned into a very pleasant moment, and they both snapped their heads around to see the blond standing in the doorway, casually leaning against the wall that divided the living room from the entranceway. "Something you're not telling me, you two?"

"Yes, what an infernal busybody you are, Gabe." Ariel snapped back before she pointed off the way Cas had shuffled earlier. "Help your brother with the food, and _no_ snitching before dinner!"

Gabriel sighed dramatically. "Yes, _mother_." He replied with a roll of his eyes before he pushed away from the wall and made to move off towards the brunette in the kitchen. "By the way, bucko," he directed the comment Dean's way, "your brother's outside waiting for you to go help haul in presents. You should probably head out there before he turns into a Samcicle, since I'm pretty sure that would put a damper on the whole holiday in general."

Dean snorted softly, but moved over to the door and tugged on his coat before heading out into the fading light to help his brother bring in what appeared to be an entire mountain of presents that he assumed had come from the trunk of the car. "Dude, what the hell?"

Sam peered over the topmost box at him, one eyebrow raised. "They're presents, Dean."

"Yeah, I can see that, Sammy," he replied flatly, "but why are there so damn many of them?"

"Why wouldn't there be so many?" He asked innocently, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion as his eyes went a bit wobbly at the edges, all signs pointing to a pout on the horizon.

"I don't know," Dean snarked back as he snatched up several of the boxes before he started crunching back through the snow towards the house, "maybe because all college students are supposed to be broke?"

Sam was grinning, Dean didn't even have to see his face to know; he could hear it in his voice. "I got a full ride, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember." Dean navigated the snow-covered steps carefully before he paused and looked back over his shoulder towards his brother. "And speaking of rides; how was the drive down with Gabriel?"

Sam snorted as he joined Dean on the porch. "I can still smell the sugar. And I swear; if he starts singing _White Christmas_ again, I'll strangle him with tinsel."

Dean gave his little brother a massive grin as he managed to get through the front door with the presents all still intact. "Next time, I'll go get you from Stanford."

Sam grinned as he followed Dean inside. "Who said you were any better?"

"Shut-up, bitch." Dean sniped back.

"Jerk." Sam rejoined without missing a beat.

* * *

When they sit down to dinner, with Ariel seated at the head of the table (a position they all told her she had to take), Dean feels like he might need a bigger mouth in order to fit all the food that's been laid out for them into his stomach.

And he's pleasantly surprised when she takes his hand, and then Gabriel's on her other side, and looks expectantly at her brother for a moment before he rolls his eyes, takes Cas' hand, and grumbles out "I'll say grace."

It's short and to the point (which makes Dean shake with silent laughter when he realizes how perfectly that suits the diminutive blond), but still somehow nice, so none of them complain, and Ariel even gives her brother's hand an extra little squeeze before she lets it go. She does the same to Dean, although a bit more subtly, and he swears up and down that it does not make him grin like an idiot not half a second later, that's just his excitement over all this amazing food and his first real Christmas in _ages_.

The conversation is light and the food is delicious, and Dean feels his grin slowly growing wider and knows it's fast becoming a permanent feature on his face.

But he doesn't care.

He doesn't care that he's been roped into doing dishes with Cas while Sam and Gabe clear the table and Ariel vanishes up to her room for a moment. He doesn't care that Gabriel is adding even more booze to the already-spiked eggnog, or that he can already feel the warm buzz of inebriation in his bones. He doesn't care that Ariel's pressing a Santa hat into his hands and demanding that he be the gift-giver first. He doesn't care that he's actually _cuddling_ with Ariel on her couch while Cas plays Santa and hands out more presents, doesn't care what Gabe and Sam say while they watch the two of them slowly begin losing sight of any definite space between their limbs (and, if questioned, Dean will blame Ariel's cashmere sweater for the way his hands can't stay away from her, and that will be his story for life).

He doesn't care that the three boys in the living room cheer and then gag overdramatically when Ariel catches him under the mistletoe, doesn't care that he _doesn't care_ about any of it, because this feels right and real and wonderful.

Because this feels like _home_.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Supernatural and all related characters belong to: Eric Kripke
> 
> All songs belong to their original owners.
> 
> Ariel belongs to: Silver Flame Alchemist (aka Me)


End file.
